


He's not a white rabbit

by ElisAttack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Music, BAMF Stiles, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Coming Out, Erica's and Stiles' bromance rivals Scott's, Fluff and Angst, Gay Derek, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Manager Derek, Minor Derek/OMC - Freeform, Minor Stiles/others, Musician Stiles, Not Underage, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Protective Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:19:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3554078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisAttack/pseuds/ElisAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles fell in love with Derek the moment he smiled at him in a ratty dive bar, and said he sang like an angel.  Maybe that's why none of his relationships ever worked out; he's been subconsciously comparing everyone to Derek, or maybe it's just because he's been hiding his bisexuality away like a dirty little secret.</p><p>Or the one where Stiles knows two things: he hates the music industry, but loves making music.  Unfortunately for him, those two attitudes clash more often than not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's not a white rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my computer for ever. I wanted a pop star fic, but I dislike pop music, and so a disillusioned Stiles who just wants to strum away on his Gretsch fic was born
> 
> In this fic, I imagine Stiles' music (his own stuff, not the pop) sounds like Hozier, they even favour the same instrument.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so mistakes are mine.
> 
> Warnings are in the end notes.
> 
> UPDATE 07/30/15: Honestly, I'm probably never going to continue this, I have have half of the last chapter written, but I can't bring myself to finish it, I kind of forgot where I was taking it tbh, sorry :(

"This fucking hell bitch!"  Erica runs into Stiles' bedroom, face stretched in fury.

Stiles looks at her through his vanity mirror as he applies wax to his hair. "Erica, harsh words even from you."

She stalks over to him, and slams a magazine down hard on the poor vanity.

On the cover, in huge pink letters, is yet another front page calling Stiles a man whore.  Just not in those exact words.  Instead it reads _Heartbreaker Stiles caught cheating again.  Jilted ex tells all!_

"Huh, should have seen that one coming."  He really should have, he has no excuse.  The fact that Rose broke up with him via text should have been an indication of how much she wanted to fuck him over.

"Batman, I will end her for you."  Erica grinds her teeth like the hellcat she is.  "You don't cheat."

"Hold up there Catwoman, can't have my favourite stylist sent to Sing Sing for defending my honor."  Stiles should have learned his lesson by now.  After his fifth relationship went down the drain in a similar fashion, he should've known that falling for beautiful, irresistible Rose would just end in tears.  Honestly, he really isn't even surprised anymore.

Who's he kidding?  Stiles loves love.  He'll just keep trying until it works, no matter the fuck ups along the way.  He really knows how to pick them though.  Rose just used him for his fame, as did the last five people he dated.

"Are you going to call Derek?"  Erica asks as she takes over, styling his hair.  Oh shit, Stiles completely forgot about the publicity side of things, Derek is going to kill him.

But before he can grab his phone, it rings, Derek's name and catatonic eyebrows popping up on the screen.

"Stiles why are you on the cover of Us Weekly?"  Derek greets in his most deadliest voice.

Stiles winces.  "I can explain."

"And why is your hell bitch of an ex saying you cheated on her?"

"Now that, I can't explain."  He never cheated on Rose.  Stiles knows all too well what cheating feels like to ever to that to someone.

Derek sighs, static in the connection.  "I've hired a PR manager.  She'll handle this clusterfuck."

"Okay, good plan."  He can't argue with that logic, after two years of being badmouthed by no less than five exes in the media, he needs someone to help turn his image around. 

"And Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell Erica to give you the ice cream."  Stiles hears a soft _dammit_ from behind him, before a tub of chunky monkey slams on the dresser with a spoon, and Erica snatches the phone from his hand.

"You can't keep soothing his poor broken heart with ice cream, he's going to get fat.  Nobody lusts after a 300 lb musician."  She growls into the line.

He hears Derek laugh through the phone.  "I think the whole problem is that people keep lusting after him, we fatten him up, and then suddenly we stop having these PR nightmares."

"Fuck, I hate it when you're right."  Erica scowls at the phone, before tossing it back to Stiles.  "Come on, let me finish bedheading your hair, then I gotta get you dressed, Boyd's waiting with the town car."

Stiles sticks his tongue out and Erica flicks his nose, striding over to his closet, pulling clothes out.

"Thanks for the ice cream."  Stiles smiles into the receiver.  Derek and him have an unofficial tradition where he gives Stiles a tub of chunky monkey every time an ex fucks him over.  It's awesome, except that it first requires him getting fucked over, but otherwise, hey, manager sanctioned ice cream.

Derek laughs, "Eat it up, kid, and get down over to headquarters, we've got some things to go over with the PR.  See you soon."  Stiles hangs up.

Erica tosses a pair of dark wash skinny jeans at him, the ones she says makes his ass pop, and a slim fit blue button up.  She slaps his hands away when he tries to button the tight fitting shirt up all the way.  "Stiles..."  She warns.

"You can see my chest hair."  He whispers, scandalized.  Poking at the pathetic patch of dark fuzz on his chest.

She looks over him appraising.  "That's the point."

"It makes me look like a douche."  Stiles whines, fingers itching to close the shirt.

"That's the point."

"But it makes me look like Roberto."

Erica rolls her eyes.  "At least you can admit the douche has great style."

Stiles can admit that.  Reluctantly.  He hates Roberto with a burning passion, and has no idea what Derek sees in him, he's a asshole who treats Stiles like a child.  Whenever he talks to him, Roberto speaks noticeably slower, like English isn't Stiles' first language.  Stiles may be twelve years younger than Derek, but he is able to keep up with the conversation well enough when he's invited over for dinner.  How Derek stands to live with that man, Stiles will never know.

Stiles knows his hatred for Roberto isn't just some bitterness on the part of the massive crush he's had on Derek since he was sixteen.  He knows it's never going to happen, Derek still calls him 'kid' like he did when Stiles was still sixteen and admittedly still a kid.  Stiles has accepted that, but it doesn't mean he has to like Roberto.

What kind of name is Roberto, even?  That man has not a drop of Spanish blood in him, he's a SoCal trust fund baby with a decorative degree in Philosophy.  Seriously it's framed above the fireplace in a gilt frame.  Does Derek show off his Communications degree from Columbia?  No.

Okay, Stiles can admit he's just a little bit bitter, he'd probably hate any man Derek deems worthy enough to love.  Sometimes he wonders what would've happened if Derek and him were the same age.  Would Stiles have had the courage to ask him out?  Maybe, maybe not?  But Stiles will never know,  Derek thinks of him like a brother, not someone he wants to date.

It sucks.

The trip into the city is fraught with traffic, and horrid smog.  Stiles is so glad Scott doesn't live in the city anymore, the climate was awful on his asthma.  He lives in the burbs near Stiles' modest bungalow.  Scott shares his apartment with his fiancé, Allison, who happens to run a small indie record company, the little sister of Stiles' company, Argent Records. 

Boyd notices his foul mood and tries to cheer him up exponentially, popping the new mix CD Allison sent him into the stereo.

God, he misses the sound of real instruments and unadulterated sound.  Stiles can say with a clear conscience that he hates what his music has become.  For fucks sake, he doesn't even write anymore.  There are people who do that for him. 

There's only one thing he refuses to do, and it was something Derek managed to negotiate for him in his contract.  Stiles doesn't allow his voice to be edited.  Derek once told him he sounded like an angel when he sang, and Stiles intends to always sound the same whether it be singing live, or in studio.  He refuses to allow a machine to level out his voice because it thinks he's imperfect.

Stiles can remember being sixteen years old, just barely making rent playing in dives around the city, driving his mom's blue jeep to get to gig after gig, loving every minute of it.  Now his mother's jeep sits on cinderblocks in his garage because his company says it doesn't suit his 'stylish persona'.

He hums along to the acoustic cover of Bizarre Love Triangle.  Kira Yukimura, the newest musician Allison picked up, has an amazing voice, dulcet and soft.  Stiles wonders if she writes as well as she sings, he would love to collaborate with her if only Kate would let him, but she doesn't let him do anything unless it directly benefits her and the company.

Stiles is twenty three years old and he's so fucking jaded, he hates the goddamn drum machine and the goddamn industry.

Boyd pulls up the Argent Records high rise with a "here we are."  Erica pushes him out of the car, making him leave his near empty pint of chunky monkey behind as she and Boyd take the car down to the garage, no doubt finishing the rest of his ice cream.  He has a television appearance later on in the day, and she has to prepare him for it.

Derek's waiting for him in the lobby, holding a travel mug of what Stiles knows is a hazelnut frappuccino.  Derek might seem intimidating as fuck in his aviators, dark blue fitted suit and polished black shoes, but he likes his sugary bitch drinks as much as the next person.

Derek smiles at Stiles when he sees him, taking off his aviators and tucking them into his suit pocket.  Stiles' heart skips a beat when he sees Derek's eyes crinkle and he imagines for a second what it would be like for him to only look at Stiles like that.  "Hey, kid."  Derek greets him, and there goes that fantasy, he reaches out and fingers Stiles' collar.  "Nice chest hair." 

Stiles rolls his eyes, beating down a heavy blush.  "Blame Erica."

"It suits you."  Derek smiles wider.

Stiles ignores that comment for the sake of his sanity.  "Thanks for the ice cream."

"No problem, now come on."  Derek steers him to the elevator.  "The bosses are pissed."  Derek warns him as the elevator dings and they make their way up to the executive floors.  "Don't give them further reason to rip your throat out with their teeth.  Be calm, and answer their questions to the best of your ability."

Stiles raises a brow.  "Do you even know me?"

Derek shakes his head.  "Alright, fine."  He sighs.  "Try not to be too much of a snarky little bastard."

Stiles grins.  "I resent that, I live to be a snarky little bastard."  Derek rolls his eyes and leads him out of the elevator with a hand on his lower back.  Stiles ignores the feelings the slight pressure and warmth give him, but it does help soothe his anxiety.  Derek is going to be here with him.  Everything will be alright.

"Stilinski.  Nice of you to finally join us."  Kate Argent greets when they enter the conference room.  Kate and Gerard sit beside each other, staring down at him with equal expressions of arrogance.  A strawberry blonde goddess occupies a position a few seats down from the father and daughter team.  She must be the PR manager, and Stiles already likes her, any person who can't stand to share the same space as these two particular Argents are good in his mind.

The strawberry blonde gets up from her seat and greets him, holding out her hand.  "Lydia Martin.  It's nice to meet you Stiles."

"Likewise."  Stiles smiles flirtily at her, winking.  Lydia rolls her eyes, ignoring his come on, she digs in her purse pulling out the magazine.  "This is the reason we're all here today."  She throws it down on the table and Stiles winces when he reads that awful spread on the cover.  Derek touches him on the shoulder and Stiles tries to take comfort in the warmth of his palm.

Stiles folds his arms.  "It's not true I doesn't cheat, Rose is a lying liar who lies."  He glares around the room, begging anyone to argue with him.

"At the moment the truth means nothing.  Every single relationship you've had has ended with your Ex spilling the beans on the relationship.  Regardless if what they say is true or not, you're already considered a man-whore by the media."  Stiles winces at Lydia's direct words.   "There's nothing we can really do about that at the moment, except maybe publicize your community involvement, casting you as a good person, and hoping that wins over your philandering."

Stiles shakes his head, already dismissing that idea.  Stiles makes regular trips down to the cancer ward at Cedars-Sinai to perform acoustic renditions for patients.  It began as an ode to his mother; he knew the patients needed something to help them retain some sort of meaning in life.  But now he does it because it gives him something in return.  He can be himself.  He can play music he writes to these people, and they love it.  Stiles doesn't want those perfect moments which are purely his to be soiled by the media.  "No.  That's something private."

Lydia nods her head.  "Fine."

"Why are you here?"  Stiles questions.  "If you say there's nothing you can do, why were you hired?"

Kate scoffs.  "It's not the fact that your girlfriend says you were cheating on her that we're concerned about.  It's what she alluded to in the interview."

Gerard frowns, crossing his arms.  "She implied you had homosexual _tendencies_."

"What?"  Stiles exclaims, grabbing the magazine off the table, in the process yanking his shoulder out of Derek's grip.  Stiles flips to find the interview, and quickly scans through, mouth dropping open when he finds it.  "That fucking bitch." 

He once asked Rose to peg him.  At the time she thought it was a joke and laughed it off dismissing him, and Stiles went along with it, trying to hide his disappointment.  He didn't bring it up again, not wanting to be rejected by her.  But now she's turned around the whole encounter, painting Stiles as a bad boyfriend seeking his pleasure elsewhere because Rose wasn't comfortable with what he was asking for.

And _Jesus_ , the wording she uses.  It doesn't say anything outright, but it implies so damned much.  Stiles knows he's bisexual, but the only other people who know this about this are his dad, Allison and Scott.  He's not _allowed_ to come out, it says so right in his contract, and if he did he could be fired and sued for all he's worth.  The Argents have their way around contracts, phasing things in such a way it doesn't appear discriminatory, but in application it is.  If Derek knew just how horrible the Argents were in the beginning, he would have never signed Stiles with them.

And that's when Kate Argent snorts.  "This is all on you, Stilinski, if you didn't want to take it up the ass just like your fag manager does, well, we wouldn't be in this situation now, would we?"

"Excuse me?!"  Stiles steps forward while Derek's face turns red in anger and embarrassment.  "I don't see how Derek's personal life has anything to do with Rose and her lies."

Kate turns her cold green eyes on Derek.  "I bet this is your way of getting back at me, taking one of my best investments and making him like _you_."  The last word drips in malice and Derek gapes at her words.  Stiles knows Kate is manipulative and ambitious, but he never realized just how insane she is. "I should fucking fire you for this, Hale."  She laughs cruelly.  "I think I will."

Oh no.  No fucking way.   This bitch as no fucking right.

"You fire him, and you might as well fire me."  Stiles snarls at her, and she turns her attention back to him.

She smiles nastily.  "We can sue you for infringement of contract, Stilinski.  You still have three years left with us."  The _and we'll make them a  miserable three years if you do not do as we say_ implicit in her tone.

"Then fucking sue me, bitch, take me for all I'm worth, I'm not fucking attached to my money, but I will fucking ruin your name.  Who is the media going to believe?  Me, or you?"  Stiles glances her up and down.  "One of the most popular musicians in the country or the cunt desperate enough for a lay to go after a gay man in a committed relationship.  Yes,"  Stiles continues when he sees her eyes widen.  "I've seen the way you look at Derek, and I bet he's received tons of inappropriate emails and text messages from you.  That would make for a beautiful sexual harassment suit, don't you think?"

"Kate, what did you do?!"  Gerard's eyes widen.  "A homosexual, really?  Can't you do better, girl?"

"Shut up, dad."  Kate growls, before stabbing a manicured nail in Stiles chest.  "If you fucking say a word-"

Stiles interrupts her, slapping her hand away.  "We won't have a problem so long as Derek keeps his job, and doesn't lose a single one of his benefits.  If I fucking hear a word about you reducing his dental coverage so he can't do something as simple as whiten his teeth when so ever he pleases, I will bury you in so many discriminatory lawsuits, so help me god."  Stiles turns around and marches right out of the conference room, Derek trailing after him.  He catches Lydia staring after him, her mouth quirked up in a faint smile. 

Stiles throws one more barb at them.  "Derek's fucking amazing at what he does, and this company doesn't bloody deserve him."  He slams the door shut.

Stiles hates this fucking family. 

Except Allison, and maybe her dad, but that's it.  The Argents suck, he almost wants them to fire Derek just so he can break contract and leave the label, but he can't do that to Derek, Erica, or Boyd, they'd be out of jobs.  He cares too much to do that to their livelihoods, especially when he knows that Erica and Boyd are planning on starting a family.

Stiles marches his way to the elevator, jabbing at the button in quick succession, before Derek grabs his hand stopping him.

"I don't whiten my teeth."  Derek states, pulling Stiles' wrist away from the button.

"I was proving a point."  Stiles drags his arm out of Derek's, pissed.  Those people had no right to treat him that way, and Derek's an idiot for putting up with the abuse.

"Stiles..."  Derek frustrates.  Stiles ignores him, walking to the stairwell, he could use the walk down and hopefully it would burn away his frustration.  "C'mon kid, wait a second."  Derek calls, chasing after him.

Stiles stops abruptly, and Derek nearly walks right into him.  "Stop calling me that."  Stiles snaps, pained and frustrated at the persistent nickname.

"What?"  Derek questions, confused.

"I'm not a kid and I haven't been for a long time, so _stop calling me that_."  Stiles marches off, leaving a shocked Derek in his wake.

He takes the stairs a few at a time, and makes it to the fourth floor in record speeds, wandering into his dressing room, and slamming the door behind him.  Stiles collapses into his makeup chair, grabbing some baby wipes to wipe at the tears running down his face.  Derek and him trade insults like a firefight, it's just the way they are, assholes.  But it's always lighthearted, so when they do fight for real it's biblical, feels horrible, and never fails to reduce Stiles to tears.

A knock sounds on the door, echoing in the small room.  "Fuck."  He says, wiping his tears quickly, before clearing his throat hoping he sounds somewhat normal.  "Who is it?"  Stiles asks, crossing his fingers hoping it isn't Derek, he really can't deal with him now.

"Your Catwoman, Stiles."  Erica says, soft voice audible through the thin door.

"C'mon in."  He checks his reflection, and if his eyes a bit redder than normal, he hopes Erica won't notice.

The door cracks and Erica slips in.  "Hey."  She says, running a soft hand through Stiles' hair in greeting.  "How are you feeling?"

Stiles snorts.  "It spread that quickly?"

"No, Derek called me to come check up on you.  He said you bitched at the bosses, then ran off."

"He said that?"

"No, I may be inferring that's what happened from the unlightening conversation I had with him."

"Oh."  Stiles blinks.  "Kate Argent's a fucking bitch."

"Tell me something I don't know."  Erica rolls her eyes.  "Do you feel up for the TV appearance?"

Stiles nods his head, and Erica gets to work.  "Yeah, can't give queen bitch any more reasons to fuck Derek over."

"Stiles, it's not your duty to protect him, he's your manager, he's supposed to do that for you."  She swipes some concealer under his eyes.  "I think you really startled him when you plowed right over him to yell at Kate.  You need to understand he can fight his own battles." 

"Not that one, Erica, you should've seen him, he looked so embarrassed, he wasn't even saying anything in his defense."  Stiles sighs.  "He's such a strong advocate for LGBT rights, anything a homophobe throws at him, he throw right back a hundred times worse.  But I've never seen him so fucking quiet in the face of blatant discrimination."

Erica reapplies gel to his hair.  "You're right, that doesn't sound like him."  She pauses.  "Except think about it Stiles, Kate signs his paychecks and yours, and we both know exactly how vindictive and petty she can be.  She can make your life miserable so easily, try not to anger her, okay?"  She runs one last comb through his hair.  "There, now you're ready."

Stiles smiles at her.  "I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything."

Erica grins right back.  "That's all I ask."

The TV appearance goes swimmingly, the host was asked not to bring up the magazine article, and they respected his wishes.  Unfortunately, he had to sit with a huge fake smile plastered on his face while she  gushed over his new album, when the only thing he contributed to those eleven awful love songs was his voice.  At least it was national rescue dog awareness day, and so they brought out a shivering, frightened dog for him to hold.  It was a beautiful moment when the schnauzer settled down in his arms, and the audience cooed at him, the host staring at the two of them with hearts in her eyes.

She slipped him her number on a napkin after the show, and he discreetly tossed it away when she wasn't looking.  His third girlfriend was a reporter, she loved to dig for information, and like an idiot he gave it away freely, he's not making that same mistake again.      

Erica's removing his makeup in the town car when he finally has the time to call Derek and talk to him about what happened during the meeting with the Argents.  His pauses after he speed dials Derek, and at the last moment decides he wants to see Derek's face, hitting the facetime button.

"Hey Stiles."  Derek answers the phone, his voice quiet, his face in shadows, hair unstyled, drooping over his forehead.  He's in an unfamiliar location surrounded by boxes, and he looks like a hot mess.

"Derek."  Stiles says softly.  "How are you?"

Derek sighs, rubbing his hand over his face.  "I broke up with Rob."

"What?"  It can't possibly be because of what Kate said, could it?  Who the fuck took Derek and replaced him with a pod person, because this isn't like him at all.  "But you love Roberto."  Stiles argues.

Derek stares at him with an unreadable expression on his face, before he looks away from the camera.  "The break up was a long time coming, our relationship was fading, but I didn't know why, and now I do.  It isn't fair to him, keeping up the farce."

Stiles is bamboozled.  How did he not know about this? Stiles prides himself on being a good damn friend, but Derek is hurting, and apparently has been for a while, but he hadn't noticed.

"I'm coming over."  Stiles decides.  "Are you home?"

"Don't."  Derek says.

"I just want to be there for you, Derek."  Stiles pleads.

Derek sighs.  "I moved out of the house, the lease was on Rob's name anyway, I'm crashing at a hotel."

"Don't waste your money, I have a huge spare room you can take over.  Come stay with me."  Stiles suggests, he'll have to clear it of all the musical instruments and LPs but it has a comfy bed, and Derek really looks like he could use a warm, soft sleep.

Stiles swears he sees Derek's eyes crinkle, a hint of a smile crossing his lips, before he gulps and his face screws back to a tortured frown.  "I can't Stiles.  I need to be alone for a bit.  I'm taking a few days off.  Erica will handle the bulk of your appearances, and Lydia will be there to help her.  I'll talk to you later."  And Derek hangs up without waiting for his reply.  Stiles stares accusingly down at his phone, before frowning up at Erica.

"Did he tell you what'd going one with him?"

Erica shakes her head.  "He just said he's taking a week off."

"A week!  What am I supposed to do without him for a week?"  Stiles panics.  "He does everything for me.  I can't talk to reporters, I can't write press statements, I have a fucking goddamn continental tour in the works,  I can't handle that sort of shit!"  Stiles' breathing becomes more and more difficult the faster he panics, but Erica grabs him by the cheeks forcing him to look at her.

"Stiles.  Shh, shhh, calm down."  He can't, he tries but he fucking can't.  "Breathe with me.  Okay?  One breath in, one breath out.  C'mon, Stiles, you're doing so good."  She starts rubbing his back, and eventually his breathing evens out, and he can focus again.  "Are you okay?"  Erica asks her brows furrowed in worry.

Stiles nods his head.

"Okay, so listen to me and don't speak."  She says when Stiles opens his mouth.  "The PR manager and I will handle everything, you don't need to worry your pretty little head about anything but shit ass music, and in a week Derek will be back, right as rain, to sweep you up in a delightful princess hold, and you'll run off together into the sunset."  She squeezes his cheek, and Stiles lets out a short, wet laugh.

"Yeah, alright, Erica, you and your pipe dreams."

"What can I say?  Roberto won't be missed by either Boyd or me.  He liked to call us 'the help'."  She says, a sour look over coming her face.

"Derek loved him."  Stiles feels the need to defend Derek's decisions.  "That should count for something."

"Derek doesn't know what love is if he called what he had with that man love."  Erica says nonchalantly, packing away her makeup kit.  "I'm just glad he's come to his senses."

Stiles sighs changing the subject.  "Scott and Allison are coming over later, do you and Boyd want to join us?  I'm cooking"

"Nah, Batman."  Erica smiles sweetly.  "My man's taking me out for dinner."

Stiles grins.  "Oh?  Where?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out tomorrow."  She winks.  "Now stop living vicariously through me, and find a decent human being to bone, preferably one who won't screw you over."

"I can only dream."  Stiles sighs wistfully.

That night he makes his mom's famous Texas-style chili con carne, and so when he opens the door to Scott and Allison standing with an expensive bottle of tequila, Scott sniffs the air like a dog before pulling Stiles into a bone crushing hug.

"I love your chili."

"Thanks, bro."  Stiles smiles.

Stiles met Scott the day of his mother's funeral.  Melissa was Claudia Stilinski's chemotherapy nurse and came to the wake with her eight year old son.

"Hi, I'm Scott."  The boy with the crooked jaw greets.

"My mother's dead."  Stiles stares at the boy impassively.

"That sucks, my father's a bastard.  Want to read some comics?"

Stiles shrugs. 

Scott was a good distraction, and eventually he became much more than a distraction.  He became Stiles' best friend.

Scott came with him to L.A. when they were both sixteen, following their dreams.  They roomed together, while Stiles made his share of the rent as a popular indie rocker at various dives around the city.  Stiles attended school during the day with Scott, who worked as a veterinary assistant, all the while running his trendy web comic on the side.

Eventually, Stiles was able to save up enough money to retire his old Epiphone, buying a second hand Gretsch Rancher and an amp from the pawn shop owned by their landlord.

Stiles had finished playing a cover of Cat Power's Cherokee in one of his regular haunts when a man with insanely intense eyebrows came up to him backstage, handed him his card, said he sounded like an angel, and changed his life forever.

Stiles finished his 2nd of high school, and spent the whole summer training with Derek, before signing with Argent Records. 

Scott managed to get a gig with Marvel, and now is one of their most prominent colourists.  He met Allison through Stiles a few years ago, and they clicked immediately.  Now engaged, the two of them are still the most sickly sweet couple he's ever met.

Allison pours them all shots of Patron, and Stiles spoons the chili into bowls, a lime wedge tucked in the corner.  He consider himself an amazing cook, and as Derek tells him, if Stiles ever gets sick of music he could easily acquire a career in the culinary arts.  Scott practically inhales his food, and Stiles would be a hypocrite if he said he didn't do the same.

Twenty minutes later the three of them are crashed out on the couch nursing their prominent food bellies, the television playing a procedural cop show on low volume.  Allison nudges him gently in the ribs.  "I have something for you."  She rummages around in her purse and pulls out a CD case.

Stiles takes it, puzzled.  "What is it?"  He opens it, but nothing is written on the silver CD.

Allison smiles.  "Kira wanted me to give it to you.  She's been writing her own songs, and she wants your opinion."

Stiles grins.  "Cool."

She turns to look at him seriously, Scott asleep and drooling on her shoulder.  "I have something big to discuss with you, and it needs to be handled with great care, otherwise shit might just blow up in our faces." 

"Ally, what is it?"  Stiles puts down the CD, focusing his full attention on her.

"My dad thinks Gerard's been embezzling from the company."

**Author's Note:**

> This will become explicit in the future, there' no doubt about that, and in the next chapter there will be a flashback to a non con moment between Stiles and an OFC.  
> Oh, and there's a 12 year age gap in the Sterek, they meet when Stiles is 16, but nothing even remotely romantic happens between Stiles and Derek until Stiles is 23 cuz I don't like underage fics, unless Stiles is written with the mental capacity of a 50 year old.
> 
> Tags will be updated when I post the second half.


End file.
